


Dante's "To Hell and Back" Starring Audie Murphy, Cinematography By MC Escher, Based on the Story By Dr. Seuss, Original Soundtrack by The Headstones, Directed by L. Morningstar

by dsa_archivist, EA Karras (Anne)



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, due South
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Series: Mountie Slayer Arc 2, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-07-16
Updated: 2000-07-16
Packaged: 2018-11-10 19:37:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11133366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anne/pseuds/EA%20Karras
Summary: Ray's Oddysey to Hell.This story is a sequel toGround Zero.





	Dante's "To Hell and Back" Starring Audie Murphy, Cinematography By MC Escher, Based on the Story By Dr. Seuss, Original Soundtrack by The Headstones, Directed by L. Morningstar

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).
    
    
    Title: "Dante's "To Hell and Back" Starring Audie Murphy, Cinematography
    By MC Escher, Based on the Story By Dr. Seuss, Original Soundtrack by
    The Headstones, Directed by L. Morningstar" Author: EA Karras and Magnes
    
    Rating: R
    Series: Mountie Slayer: Arc 2
    Emails:,
    website: http://evolvision.virtualave.net/rcms/Tales-of-the.html
    Notes: Comes after "Ground Zero". God, I bet you just love that title,
    dontcha? 
    
    ----- 
    
    Fraser heard Dief before he saw him.  
    
    The Mountie was running in the direction he was sure Ray would have taken
    when he spotted Dief.  He was in wolf form, panicked and covered in blood.
    Ray's blood. Fraser could smell it. The weird stench of  Caanite blood
    mixed with Ray's scent. Oh God. 
    
    "Where is he?" He held Dief in an odd hug. "Where is he, show me..."
    
    Dief turned at a run, and Fraser followed closely. He expected to see
    Ray lying on the floor of the alley. 
    
    Not Adolph. 
    
    *** 
    
    Tom lay awake next to the sleeping Sabbat, carefully holding his infant
    daughter in the crook of his arm, alternately watching Sophia, then her
    father. 
    
    Now that the dust had settled and he knew James was safe and would be
    well, to say he was upset would be an understatement. Possibly the greatest
    of the century. 
    
    No, he was brooding. Literally, he was brooding.  Carrying a daughter
    that wasn't his. Would never be his. Ever. He didn't want to. It wasn't
    fair.  
    
    He glared up at the ceiling, suddenly hating Marianne Calhoun for  ever
    existing.  What she had done... 
        
    He heard the door of the building slam open and ignored it until his
    guts started twisting like a fire. That he couldn't ignore.  He groaned,
    rolling onto his stomach. James didn't so much as stir. 
    
    There was a pounding at the door and he closed his eyes, miserably. "Go
    away..." 
    
    "Tom, we need you." 
    
    "Fraser, go away..."  
    
    The door opened and light spilled into the room.  Tom was witness to
    a very un-Mountie-like expression on his friend's face.  He was alarmed.
    If Tom hadn't been addressing Constable Benton Fraser, RCMS, he would
    have added frightened to the list of charges. 
    
    "Thomas, please!  Come with me now!" 
    
    He said Thomas.  He meant business. 
    
    "What's wrong?" 
    
    "It's Ray...and Adolph." 
    
    "What?!" 
    
    The Mountie shook his head.  "Come with me, please." 
    
    He set Sophia down beside her father, moving pillows to block her in
    if she should move and draping James' arm around her as well.  Then he
    hurried to join Fraser, leaving the door open. 
    
    "Where's Ray?  What happened?" he asked when they were in the hall. His
    stomach was still churning and he was moving slowly. He was sure it was
    annoying Fraser but he didn't want to get sick. /God...please.../ 
    
    "I don't know.  He took Diefenbaker for a walk and he encountered Adolph.
    Diefenbaker was running back here when I found him and when I got to
    the alley, Ray was missing and Adolph...Adolph was...well, you'll see."
    
    The Giovanni and Tremere headquarters was in an uproar as Fraser lead
    him through the halls and down into the basement.  There, in a storage
    locker, guarded by armed Giovanni vampires, was the small, flesh-colored
    demon.  He wasn't moving. 
    
    "What happened to him?" cried Tom, parental instinct taking precedence
    over reason. 
    
    "We don't know," said Fraser, holding him back.  "I could smell Ray's
    blood in the alley and there was blood on his mouth.  It burned him."
    
    "What?" He shook free of Fraser's grasp, pushing through the gathered
    crowd. He didn't miss Vecchio's frown or the confused tilt of Turnbull's
    head. "What're you talking about?" 
    
    "Lilith was in pain when she bit Ray."  He looked at the still form of
    the demon.  "Something about his blood affected her.  The same thing
    must have happened to Adolph." Fraser frowned at Tom, catching Vecchio's
    glance. It was getting difficult to capture Tom's attention. 
    
    "The fire vampire?" Turnbull whispered, finally understanding. 
    
    "Yes.  Tom?" The way Tom was fawning over Adolph was disturbing to say
    the least. The fact that the...child was Tom's son didn't matter in his
    eyes. Ray, and only Ray. 
    
    "Huh?" 
    
    "I want him back as quickly as possible.  Please don't let your affection
    for your son blind you to the fact that Ray is missing and most likely
    injured." 
    
    Tom nodded.  "Fraser?" 
    
    "Yes?" 
    
    "Remind me if I get too far from the target, okay?" 
    
    The Canadian nodded.  "Understood." He noticed Tom's wince of pain. "Are
    you all right?" 
    
    "Fine." He gave Adolph's face one last stroke and nodded. "I'll need
    my book." 
    
    *** 
    
    Well. Not exactly /forever/.... 
    
    He landed on a hard surface. It took him a minute to focus. The consulate.
    He was in the consulate, lying on a cot. What the hell? He sat up, slowly.
    He could hear weird murmuring in the hallway. Everything looked.... 
    
    Well, weird would be an understatement. 
    
    What had the fucking demon done to him? 
    
    Everything was distorted.  Colors, textures, reality.  Surreal, like
    a living cartoon.  He pushed off the cot and opened the door. 
    
    It was the consulate, all right, but not one that he wanted to remember.
    It was a mess of cobwebs and dust and vermin.  Turnbull sat behind his
    trusty desk and there was dust all over him.  And he was short.  Shorter
    than Ray.  Frannie sized.  And his boots, when he came around the desk,
    were lemon yellow. 
    
    Weird. 
    
    He must've hit his head pretty hard. 
    
    "Uh, yo, Turnbull," he called. 
    
    "Welcome to Hell, Detective Kowalski," said the Mountie. 
    
    "Uh...yeah.  Uh, where's Fraser at?" 
    
    The constable looked suddenly intense.  "He's not here, Ray.  Don't try
    to find him." 
    
    "Where's here?  And don't tell me Canada 'cause I know them boots aren't
    regulation." 
    
    "As I said before, Detective, welcome to Hell." 
    
    "Hell." 
    
    "Yes," nodded Turnbull. 
    
    "As in 'Go to' not the prison, right?" 
    
    "Yes." 
    
    "Oh, hell." 
    
    Turnbull smiled, as if sharing a secret. "Indeed!" He chuckled. 
    
    This had to be a very bad dream. 
    
    "Afraid not, Yank." Turnbull grinned wider as Fraser's father stepped
    beside him, followed by Louis Gardino. 
    
    "Oh, man...this is not where I wanted to end up," Louis muttered. 
    
    Fraser Sr. surveyed their predicament.  "Amen, son."
    
    *** 
    
    Tom took the book from Fraser's hands, turning to the appropriate page.
    There was something different about the book. He frowned. It felt...wrong.
    Full of hate. Anger. Insanity. 
    
    He looked down at the heavy tome, intent on reading the spell that would
    make Adolph wake up and spill his guts. What he saw frightened him. 
    
    Horror. Fire. Insanity. He clutched the book with shaking hands, and
    stared. He could hear laughing. Wyrm? Lilith? Who... 
    
    Everything felt hazy. Blurred. He looked up, staring at Fraser. 
    
    The Mountie was talking to him. He could barely hear him. 
    
    *** 
    
    Fraser stared at Tom, concerned. He looked woozy. Disoriented. "Tom?
    What is it?" 
    
    Nothing.  Tom was swaying, growing faint. 
    
    Fraser lunged, slapping the book out of Tom's outstretched hands.  It
    landed a few feet away and Vecchio carefully toed it close. 
    
    He felt Fraser supporting him.  "What happened?" 
    
    "It's...it's been invaded," breathed Tom, aghast.  "It's not the same,
    it's evil!" 
    
    "What was it before?" wondered Vecchio. 
    
    "Can we wake Adolph another way?" Fraser demanded.  "I want to know where
    Ray is.  Now." 
    
    Tom suddenly snickered, clasping a hand over his mouth. "I know where
    he is..." He giggled again. "I know exactly where he is," he said, brightly.
    His eyes were bright, yet dull.  Something was missing from his expression.
    
    Fraser was suddenly very afraid for his friend. He remembered the stories
    about the Necronomicon. Tales of people so tormented by their experiences
    just /looking/ at the book, that they were irretrievably insane. 
    
    "Fraser?" Vecchio looked at him. "What's going on?" 
    
    "I..." Fraser shook his head. "I don't know..." 
    
    *** 
    
    Sitting alone in the council room, Caine studied the Tarot cards.  They
    were spread out before him, face down, and he picked up the first one
    that caught his fancy and turned it over. He had an understanding of
    what many of them represented now and he was learning more with each
    reading.  He smiled at the first one. 
    
    Fraser, the Slayer Born and Bred, was logic and reason, passion, control,
    devotion, duty.  He was also obsession, stubbornness, and held many hidden
    secrets.  His card had changed.  It looked like a Tiffany window. 
    
    And Ray, his beloved son, his prince.  Ray was impulse and instinct,
    generosity and warmth and loyalty offset by insecurity and frustration.
    He was motion, longing, dance.  Caine smiled.  For him, Ray was joy.
    He was glad the card had changed from the hideous picture of Ray screaming
    to a cartoon drawing. 
    
    Vecchio, the Knight.  Caine recognized the picture as one of the ones
    from Tom's shoebox of photos. Ray's card had come to mean nobility. 
    Faith.  Family.  Order in chaos, protector and guardian, one who had
    traveled far to reach the mountain top.  One who had doubted and questioned
    and knew truth when he faced it. 
    
    Caine flipped another card.  Tom, his father, still looking like a Madonna
    Enthroned, still holding the gray-eyed little girl. His father was fertility
    and abundance, madness and the search for security.  He was fragility
    and endurance.  He was the parent. 
    
    He drew another card, too old in his mind to know it was not at random.
    Nothing was random.  Little in this world had ever been left to chance.
    Certainly not his drawing the card of the Queen.  Lilith. 
    
    She was destruction without meaning.  The essence of damnation.  Mindless
    action and vengeance.  Mother of evil. 
    
    He chose another. 
    
    Diefenbaker, the moon.  He was innocence and change, the mischievous
    trickster, the child.  He was also a protector, the pack, hunter and
    fighter.  It was a good card. 
    
    Adolph. The picture was just a silhouette, but Caine knew it instantly.
    Adolph was confusion and death.  A slave, a pawn.  He was ambition and
    fear.  Self-preservation and self-doubt. 
    
    A frown creased the three-year old's brow.  This card did not bode well.
    
    He  rummaged through the photographs, finally coming upon the one he
    needed of Adolph. 
    
    At least it was /supposed/ to be Adolph.  It was more a shadowy blur.
    
    All he could see now was darkness, punctuated by tiny lines of color.
    
    And a shadowy, fiery figure. 
    
    Raymond? 
    
    He wished he knew how his father had done this. It would reveal so much,
    but in his heart he knew Tom would not be able to tell him.  Indeed,
    if Tom even realized what had been done to the pictures. 
    
    *** 
    
    Calhoun opened his eyes, bringing Sophia closer. She was sleeping soundly,
    almost as soundly as he had been. Content just to look at her, to watch
    her as she slept and count her tiny fingers again, he leaned his head
    on his hand, wondering where Tom was and how the hell they'd gotten him
    back to Chicago.  He'd worry about that later, he decided.  He was watching
    his Sophia Grania sleep.  
    
    His attention was eventually dragged away from the black-haired little
    girl.  He could hear the strangest noise coming from the other room.
    Laughter?  Slowly, he sat up and gathered Sophia into his arms.  His
    body ached but he could move so long as he took it slowly. 
        
    He carried her into the sitting room then stood staring at Tom. He was
    sitting on the couch, arms wrapped around his knees. He looked...stuck
    between laughing and sobbing.  Calhoun gently touched the psychic's shoulder,
    aching to know what caused the light of insanity in his dark eyes.  He
    had seen it before.  He'd hoped it would never return.  
    "Tom? What is it? What's wrong?" 
        
    Mina pushed past him, kneeling in front of the Slayer. 
    
    *** 
    
    He reached for the door knob, and pulled inward. The door wouldn't open.
    He pushed outward. Still nothing. Ray glanced at Robert Fraser, who shrugged.
    
    "You've got me, Yank. Unless..." The older Mountie pushed on one of the
    hinges. The door flew open. 
    
    "Freaky." The trio walked out the door. 
    
    And straight into Chicago, hell style. 
     
    "Guard the fort, Turnbull!" called Ray. 
    
    The short Mountie smiled that knowing smile.  "With my death, Detective."
    
    "Great," muttered Ray.  He looked around.  "This is gross." 
    
    Buildings stood at weird angles and nothing seemed quite right.  The
    sunlight came from completely the wrong angle and had a bluish tinge
    to it.  Where the sun hit the streets and buildings and the people, all
    was bright and clean and wholesome.  The spots where shadows fell, though,
    were decayed and filthy.  Rotting. Even the people, if they really were
    people. 
    
    Somehow he had his doubts.
    
    "Hate to see this place at night," commented Gardino. 
    
    "You're dead.  What do you care?" Ray wondered. 
    
    "We're not immune, Yank.  Remember Muldoon." 
    
    "Freaky.  I'm not toasting."  Ray examined his hand in the strange light.
    "Must not be the sun.  Uh...the 13th is closer than the 27th.  Wanna
    head there first?" 
    
    "Your old stomping grounds.  This should be interesting." 
    
    "Thanks, Canada."  Ray touched his ear and frowned.  It was still bleeding.
    
    "I wonder if Joe's down here as well," Fraser Sr finally said after about
    two blocks. He was looking rather pensive. 
    
    Ray glanced at the Mountie. "Who?" 
    
    "Joe. He's a musician. Has a mouth like a sailor, but he's good company...Strange
    haircut.  You can't miss him." 
    
    *** 
    
    "Is this possible, Sir?" 
    
    "Benton, we live in a world inhabited by demons and vampires and the
    stuff of legends.  Anything is possible," said Frobisher. 
    
    "But Hell...I know Stella sent him there once for three days..." 
    
    "This would be Vecchio's Stella?" 
    
    "Yes, Ray's former Stella." 
    
    "Ah.  What was it like?  Did he tell you?" 
    
    "He would only say that it lived up to its name.  We have to get him
    back, Sergeant." 
    
    "We will, son.  Seen your father lately?" 
    
    "Yes.  He tried to warn me." 
    
    "And Kowalski went off on his own anyway.  Does he still have hypothermia?"
    
    "Quite the opposite, Sir." 
    
    They were interrupted by shouting from the living room. Calhoun and...Mina?
    Exchanging a glance with his superior, Fraser led the way. Calhoun was
    clutching Sophia to him, practically in Mina's face as he demanded to
    know exactly what happened.  She looked frightened, never having faced
    the wrath of an angry elder before, especially one that had once been
    her own.  She knew from experience Calhoun was capable of a mighty fury,
    but it had never been turned on her before. 
    
    Tom was still in bad sorts. No wonder the Sabbat was upset. "Jamey..."
    Fraser whispered. The vampire whirled around, angered. 
    
    "What's wrong with him??" He demanded, glaring. "What the fuck happened?"
    
    "A lot.  Please, help us to help him.  Calm down.  Mina is not to blame."
    He drew a deep breath, about to launch into the events of the past three
    days, when a very distressed Lord Caine, up far past his bedtime, came
    hurrying into the room.  He reached up his small hand and gripped Calhoun's
    wrist for a long moment, managing to convey his gratitude that the Sabbat
    was better without any words, then he turned to the Slayer Born and Bred.
    
    "Benton, where is my son?" 
        
    *** 
    
    The minute Ray stepped into the 13th, he wanted to faint. People were
    milling about. Some rotting, dead. Some not. There were body bags all
    over the floor, on the desks, but people worked around them as if they
    weren't there. 
    
    Graffiti marred the walls, and Ray was sure that if he went into the
    bathroom, he'd find a phone number scrawled in blood. 
    
    "Stan!" A strong voice echoed from beside his desk, which was a hunk
    of molten slag. He looked over and nearly fell to the floor in shock.
    
    "The Slayer," Gardino nodded, grinning. "Figures he'd be down here."
    
    "They're all down here," Robert Fraser nodded, following Ray to Tom's
    side. "The Slayers..." 
    
    "Tom?" Ray stared at the uniformed psychic. What the hell was going on
    here?  This was the young Tom Grissom he had first met almost ten years
    ago.  He didn't seem to notice Gardino and Fraser, or of he did he didn't
    comment on them.  
    
    "Tom, what are you doing here?" 
    
    "I'm trying to find someone." 
    
    "Cecil?" suggested Ray. 
    
    Tom sat at a chair beside the melted desk.  "Hmm?  Oh, no.  I'm trying
    to find me.  Seems I lost all my marbles."  He balanced a stack of folders
    on the slag heap and opened one.  "See?  Pre-slayer me.  Ah, look!  Slayer
    me. Me with Cassie.  Don't ever get pregnant, Stan, it ruins your figure."
    He looked up abruptly.  "You gonna help me or what?  We'll never get
    out of here if you don't." 
    
    "Um..." Ray looked around for a chair.  He spotted a lot of people he
    remembered, but it was Carrie Westfall he sought out. 
    
    "Hey, Carrie, someone snagged my chair.  Can I take this one?" 
    
    She smiled.  "It was Ivan.  Yeah, take it." 
    
    "Thanks, hon."  He lifted the chair, then impulsively leaned over and
    kissed her on the cheek.  "Damn, it's good to see you, woman." 
    
    She grinned.  "Harass me, blondie!  Or, greenie, I should say." 
    
    He sat down and opened a file.  "Psychic sex hotline Tom.  Sounds like
    a new flame for Barbie." 
    
    Tom smirked.  "Look.  Post Calhoun me." 
    
    "You know about Calhoun?" 
    
    "Oh, yeah! Look at that. Kinky me." Tom made a weird face, closing the
    folder kinky. "We'll wait on him." 
    
    There was a commotion by the door.  They all looked up to see a grand
    procession of detectives enter.  There was even music accompanying them.
    
    "What is /that/ about?" asked Ray, watching the familiar faces file past.
    
    Tom shook his head.  "That's the Fifteen from the 13th.  They're the
    ones that inhabited the post Calhoun me and let me flatten Lilith.  They
    think who they are, basically.  Expect to treat us mere mortals like
    something you wouldn't step in in a barnyard." 
    
    Sure enough, one of them caught sight of Kowalski and frowned.  "Ugh!
    A bullet user!" 
    
    Tom smirked, opening another file.  "Wait'll they pick up on the fact
    that you're the one who actually blew her head off." 
    
    There were twelve files in all, each one a different aspect of Tom Grissom's
    life. 
    
    "We gotta find all these version of you?  Den what?" 
    
    "Well, we don't actually have to cart around twelve Tom Grissom's.  That
    would be a bit difficult, not to mention annoying as hell.  We have to-"
    
    "KOWALSKI!" 
    
    Silence fell.  Even Fraser stopped talking at the deep, booming voice.
    Ray swallowed.  He knew that voice. 
    
    "Uh-oh," muttered Tom. 
    
    The door to the lieutenant's office slammed open. 
    
    "My office!  Now!" 
    
    "We who are about to die salute you," mumbled the detective, rising.
    
    "Doesn't work for the undead," Gardino pointed out. 
    
    He entered the office.  It was a typical office in all respects save
    for the lieutenant. 
    
    It was Wyrm. 
    
    A teeny, tiny version of Wyrm, but it was him.  Even the brass name plate
    said 'Lt. Wyrm.'  He was coiled in a chair and looked completely aggravated.
    Strangest of all, though, he wore Ray's old glasses and the ugliest polyester
    tie Ray had ever clapped eyes on. 
    
    "You deaf?" 
    
    He shook his head.  "Just blind, Lieu." 
    
    "Shut the door.  I got an assignment for ya." 
    
    Reluctantly, Ray closed the door behind him. "Yeah, Lieu?" His voice
    was shaking. He still didn't understand half of what was happening. Hell
    was never like this last time he was here.  Last time it had been the
    classic fire and brimstone and dodging imps.  He liked that version a
    lot more. 
    
    Wyrm nodded to a file on the desk, and Ray opened it. "You're here now
    because my son happened to level a few hefty curses at ya.  Adolph is
    a little impulsive, but now that you're in my back yard I'm going to
    use you.  I want the Slayer born dead.  At the completion of your little
    exodus, you'll have to kill him. Understand?" 
    
    He stared down at the file. A photograph of Tom, Tom as he must be now,
    stapled to the pages. "I can't.  I won't..." 
    
    "You must. When he's got all his pieces back, he'll be dangerous. Too
    dangerous. A threat to you, and to me." 
    
    Ray looked up. Tom had Wyrm running scared?  That was a good thing. 
    That being the case, he'd do anything to keep Tom alive.  "He wasn't
    before." 
    
    Wyrm smirked.  "Maybe because a lot of him has been down here for years.
    It's real simple, detective.  You run around, have some fun in what passes
    as sunlight down here, you do what you want, but pretty soon you're going
    to get hungry.  You're still bleeding.  You're going to get weak.  Finish
    off the Slayer and you can go home.  Amaranth.  I want him out of the
    picture." 
    
    "What if I refuse?" 
    
    "Then you don't leave this room alive."  
    
    "Uh, Lieu, I don't do anything alive.  I'm a vampire." 
    
    The serpentine eyes glowed like embers.  "You know what I mean, Kowalski."
    
    *** 
    
    Aja suddenly turned his gaze on his father. He looked towards the others
    for confirmation. 
    
    Madness. Utter madness.  Calhoun closed his eyes, defeated.  Close. 
    They had been so close to heaven.  He felt a small hand on his leg and
    looked down to see dark eyes set in a gray face fighting back the tears.
    He dropped down to his knee before his lord and Caine threw his small
    arms around the Sabbat's neck, crying for both of them. 
    
    Mina bent over the hysterical Tom and made him drink something out of
    a clear plastic cup. Fraser closed his eyes, for the first time in a
    long time completely unsure of what to do. 
    
    *** 
    
    They wandered through the streets, looking for...anything really. Tom
    had insisted they look for Moloch him first. Whatever that meant. He
    heard a screeching noise and froze. "What was that?" 
    
    Tom grinned, turning towards an alley that was all dark and in shadows.
    "I think that was me." He grabbed Ray's arm and hurried off at a run,
    dragging the detective along. 
    
    The two ghosts followed at a slower pace. "I don't like this," Robert
    Fraser muttered. 
    
    Gardino nodded. "Wonder what the lieu wanted..." 
     
    "And why can the Yank be out in the day?" 
    
    "Maybe Wyrm wants him to get false hopes," reasoned the one-time detective.
    
    Fraser shook his head.  "Let's catch up." 
        
    They stopped in their tracks when they saw Tom on the floor of the alley,
    dressed almost completely in black.  His hair was mussed,  sticking straight
    up. Fluffed. He was rolling on his back, hissing and ripping at a...
    
    "Oh...gross..." A rat. Ray fought the urge to throw up, even though he
    no longer could. "That's...ugh..." 
    
    Moloch Tom heard him and rolled onto his stomach, baring his teeth. Four
    of them were longer than the others. The canines. Like a vampires, only
    sharper. For ripping, not for biting.  His skin had a grayish tint to
    it, like Aja's. 
    
    Ray thought back to /his/ Tom, wondering if he had those teeth. He hoped
    not. Though, that might explain...no. Best not to even think about that.
    "Tom?" He turned to the policeman next to him. 
    
    "You can't have it," the Moloch hissed, protective of his dead rat. 
    
    "We don't want that," Ray started. 
    
    "Oh we do! Yes. We must," the policeman nodded vigorously.  "Go make
    friends with him!"  
    
    "And lose a limb?" protested Ray.  "You unhinged, Grissom?" 
    
    The officer sighed.  "Moloch are felenic." 
    
    "Yeah, I hear they're closer to a cure every year." 
    
    Tom smiled.  "He's like a cat, Stan." 
    
    "Stan?" wondered Fraser Sr in a scathing tone.  "What happened to Ray?"
    
    The Moloch looked right at the Mountie, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.
    
    "Oh.  'Kay.  Uh..."  Ray turned to the demon, crouching down.  "Hey,
    Tom.  Tom Cat.  Pss-pss-pss.  Here boy."  He slowly reached out and let
    Tom sniff his hand. 
    
    "You have one of me," stated the Moloch. 
    
    Ray felt himself smile.  "Yeah.  Two, really.  This guy here and one
    at home."  He began to gently scratch the coarse black hair.  Tom Cat
    arched his neck and back appreciatively, letting out a sound that was...
    
    "He's purrin'," grinned Kowalski. Just as long as he didn't start licking.
    
    "Guess you're his type," commented Gardino. 
    
    Moloch Tom rolled onto his back, the rat forgotten.  Ray rubbed his belly
    and when he slowed down, Tom batted his hand for more. 
    
    "Dis is too weird.  He's like Dief." 
    
    Officer Tom edged the chewed-up rat away with his foot until it was out
    of Tom Cat's line of sight. 
    
    "Stan?  We've got to go." 
    
    A little sorry to abandon his new found pet, Stan gave the Moloch a few
    more pets then slowly rose.  The demon watched him with dark, amused
    eyes before standing, giving himself a shake, and darting off into the
    shadows. 
    
    And vanishing. Literally. 
    
    The Baltimore officer pointed to the ground at his feet. 
    
    "Here you go." 
    
    Kowalski looked down.  "It's a dead rat." 
    
    "Better than a live one," grumbled Fraser's dad. 
    
    "I'm not touching it." Ray shook his head, looking at Grissom. "You pick
    it up..." 
    
    "I can't, you have to." 
    
    "You're such a liar..." 
    
    "God, it's just a..." 
    
    Gardino buried his face in his hands. "We're gonna be here forever."
    
    *** 
    
    Vecchio was taking his turn watching Tom when the psychic finally woke
    up, stretching his legs out one at a time. "Tom?" He leaned forward,
    concerned. "You hear me?" 
    
    "Mmmm...." Tom nodded, the sound of his voice sounding strange. "Yeah...."
    He giggled a bit, rolling onto his side. 
    
    "Want me to get Jamey?" 
    
    "Yeah..." 
    
    Vecchio nodded, standing up. "I'll be right back. Are you hungry?" 
    
    "Mmmhm..." 
    
    "I'll send something up with him." 
    
    "Live, ok? Something live..." Tom sounded so strange. Vecchio raised
    his eyebrows and nodded, reluctantly.  "And milk. Lots of milk. Lots
    and lots...." 
    
    "Right. Live food and milk. Got it." 
    
    *** 
    
    Together they dumped the rat into a discarded bag they found outside
    the alley. Ray, by virtue of seniority, had relegated Grissom to carrying
    it, as well as a list of the versions of him they had to find. "Who's
    next?" Ray demanded, already starting to tire of the game. 
    
    "Alex's me." Tom's voice was quiet. Full of regret. And sadness? 
    
    Ray picked up on it. "Alex?" The Alderman? Why the hell....
    
    "You'll see..." 
    
    *** 
    
    "How're you feeling?" Fraser felt Tom's forehead, gently. No fever. He
    seemed more lucid than he had been. Jamey sat beside the Seer, worried.
    And with reason. Tom was acting stranger than ever, even for Tom. 
    
    He tore into the mouse that Zuko had managed to find and swallowed it
    down quickly. It was then that James noticed the teeth. With a sudden
    thought, he darted his fingers over and tickled gently at a spot behind
    Tom's left ear. 
    
    Tom closed his eyes mid swallow and purred, arching his back to press
    closer to the vampire.  
    
    Vecchio, carrying a jug full of milk, almost balked when he walked into
    the sitting room and found Tom curled up on Calhoun's lap.  The vampire,
    who looked as if he just wanted to up and die all over again, quietly
    endured what was essentially an overgrown cat nuzzling at his neck. 
    
    "What the-?" wondered Vecchio. 
    
    Calhoun glared up at him.  "He's a Moloch." 
    
    "In heat," muttered the Italian, wishing to God Calhoun could be photographed.
    Better still, get Frank down here... 
    
    Calhoun grimaced and growled.  Tom was licking his neck. 
    
    *** 
    
    "Any change?" 
    
    Turnbull looked over his shoulder at Frobisher.  He was sitting in the
    basement across from Adolph.  There were three reluctant guards standing
    about.  None of the Giovanni or Tremere were pleased with Warfield's
    order to contain the demon until Prince Kowalski's return.  "He seems
    to be asleep." 
    
    "Hmm...well, if he's asleep, we can wake him up." 
    
    "It may not be so easy."  Turnbull set aside the book he'd been researching
    spells in and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes.  "We don't
    know what properties Ray's blood has now that he's turning into a fire
    vampire." 
    
    Frobisher frowned, thinking.  "Fire vampire?  Who said he's a fire vampire?"
    
    "Lord Caine turned him into one.  He's slowly morphing.  Why?" 
    
    "They're rare.  Rarer than rare.  We're talking about a being that's
    quite literally hotter than hell.  Ray's turning to one?  What was Caine
    thinking?" 
    
    The Seeker pondered the old man's words. What indeed. 
    
    *** 
    
    Zuko suppressed a snicker when Tom suddenly sat up, straight as a rail
    and sniffed, eyes darting around the room. Calhoun glared at him, and
    rubbed the back of Tom's neck. Tom stood up, still sniffing. 
    
    "Where's he going?" Calhoun whispered as Tom left. He let Fraser help
    him up, and the curious four followed. 
    
    *** 
    
    Tom stared down at Adolph, a low growl starting in the bottom of his
    throat, the sound rising higher in pitch. Frobisher and Turnbull stared
    at him, confused. What was he doing? 
    
    Adolph's eyes opened, slowly. "Whore fa..." He started, and gave out
    a cry as his father snarled, grabbing him by the scruff of the neck and
    slammed him against the wall. 
    
    "Tom!" Calhoun shouted, shocked, well aware of what Adolph was capable
    of doing. 
    
    "How do we get him back?" Tom hissed in his son's ear, teeth bared and
    claws out "Tell me now!"  
    "Moloch!" Adolph tried to pry Tom's hands away, too weak to succeed.
    He had never been afraid of his father. Never. Until now. Wyrm had not
    told him of this side of Tom Grissom. Bastard. 
    
    "Apparently," snapped Fraser.  "Answer the question." 
    
    "How did this -" 
    
    "The Necromonicon is tainted by Lilith."  Turnbull's voice rang out loud
    and clear across the basement.  "Tom opened it and it drove him mad."
    
    "Not. Mad."  The demon gagged.  "Shattered.  Taken by the book.  His
    soul is - shattered!" 
    
    Calhoun was hard pressed not to help Tom.  "That book is a door straight
    to Hell!" 
    
    "Ray!  Ray!  Ray!" screamed the enraged Moloch.  "Where?  Where?  Tell
    me!" Tom dropped him to the ground, falling into a crouch as the demon
    hit the cement floor.  "Get him back!" 
    
    Adolph's wings splayed awkwardly as he tried to recover.  "I can't. 
    My father has him." 
    
    "I do not!" growled Tom, the sound strange in his throat. His claws dug
    into Adolph's neck. Calhoun finally saw them and started to wonder just
    whether or not Tom would need help with this impromptu parenting session
    from Hell. 
    
    "Wyrm, then," admitted Adolph.  "He's damned to Hell.  Wyrm sub terra
    has him." 
    
    /But not his soul/, thought Fraser, agony howling through his mind. 
    
    "Bring. Him. Back." Tom punctuated the words with a hiss. 
    
    "I can't." 
    
    "Then how?" 
    
    "He can." 
    
    "Who?" Tom snarled in his son's ear. "Tell. Me. Who." 
    
    "The one...the ones who are still behind..." 
    
    *** 
    
    Ray was the first to hear the shouting. They were outside a building
    labeled Drewry Center but Ray was positive there was no such place in
    Chicago. 
    
    He ran up the stairs, followed by the others, just in time to see the
    third Tom of the day get bashed with a door. A blonde haired man stood
    over the fallen officer, smirking. An Enthos demon was hovering over
    the proceedings, growling like a maniac. 
    
    Oh great. What was he supposed to do now? 
    
    Demon Squad Tom looked stricken, waiting for Ray to fix it, helpless
    to help himself. 
    
    The fallen plainclothes officer held his bleeding nose, struggling to
    get to his feet without anyone's help.  The blond shook his head and
    seized the younger man by the coat, bodily hauling him off towards the
    men's room.  The Enthos bristled but didn't seem to know what to do.
    
    "Fuckin' stay away from this one!" snapped the blond at the demon.  "He's
    mine and he's going to stay that way!" 
    
    Tom tried to talk through blood and pain.  "Alex-" 
    
    "Shut up!" He shoved at Tom's shoulder, hard. The man stumbled. 
    
    Ray shuddered. The man was a Slayer. Why wasn't he fighting back? 
    
    The first Tom sensed the question. "Muscle relaxants." He looked haunted,
    unable to deal with the thought. 
    
    Ray was already moving, unable to endure the sight of such abuse, remembering
    something Vecchio had told him about Vargas abusing Tom and almost beating
    him to death in a bathroom. He hadn't asked how Vecchio had known. He'd
    better do that sometime.  "Hey!  Jerk!  Yeah, you in the cheesy business
    suit!  I'm talkin' ta you!" 
    
    Alex Vargas turned and glared at the interruption.  The Enthos was startled
    and Tom just clutched his face. 
    
    "Don't," he whispered.  "Just leave it alone." 
    
    "I told you to shut up, Tom!" bellowed Alex.  Both Toms flinched. 
    
    Ray squared off against the alderman.  "Yer pretty tough with yer boyfriend
    and twits named Cecil.  How's about me, pal?  Way I look at it right
    now, yer facin' agg assault and domestic violence charges.  That'll be
    good PR." 
    
    Demon Squad Tom hurried past the two combatants and gently supported
    the younger version of himself in plainclothes.  The demon came to a
    landing beside them, clearly anxious to help. 
    
    Ray and the uniformed officer recognized Cecil. 
    
    "Who the fuck are you?" demanded Vargas. 
    
    "Somebody that gives a damn.  Move yer tweed ass the hell out of here
    or I swear you'll be wearin' a kick in the head." 
    
    He left the alderman gaping and joined Cecil and both Toms.  Fraser and
    Gardino were standing by, guarding the fallen bag with the rat. 
    
    "Thank you," breathed the officer. 
    
    "God, just shoulda let it go," mumbled the detective.  "Now he'll..."
    
    He broke off, spotting the two ghosts.  "They're...spirits.  Really spirits,
    not shadows of them." 
    
    Ray blinked and Tom looked around in confusion.  Like Cecil, he couldn't
    see Ray's companions. 
    
    "Yeah," said Ray, pointing at the first Tom.  "And this is you about
    three years down the line, when I met ya in Chicago, Tom." 
    
    "What...what do you mean?  What do you want?  And who are you?"  That
    last was directed at the clearly quite smitten Enthos. 
    
    "That's Cecil.  You can deal with him after the convention.  Boy, can
    you..." He shuddered. "What I want is to get you back together again,
    Grissom, one piece at a time." 
    
    The detective stared at him forlornly, the look of a man that has lost
    hope.  His voice was a lonely whisper.  "Would you?" 
    
    Ray tried to smile, thinking of the hell Grissom had endured.  "Yeah,
    buddy, I would." He looked at the first version. "What d'we need from
    him?" 
    
    The uniformed Tom looked at the list, and Ray was struck by how much
    like a scavenger hunt this was. "We need...oh dear." 
    
    "What?" 
    
    "The door." 
    
    Ray sighed. "No way am I hauling a door around Hell." 
    
    Cecil searched in his wings for a pair of keys. "Here." 
    
    "What's this?" 
    
    "My car. Take it." He turned back to Tom.  "Will you let me help?  I
    could talk to him."  He looked up.  "Oh, look, he just stepped into the
    men's room.  I'll be right back, then we'll get that nose looked at."
    
    "Wait!" cried Tom. 
    
    Ray and Officer Tom shook their heads.  "Let him go," was the advice
    of his older counterpart.  "Who knows?  He may talk sense into Alex."
    
    *** 
    
    Tom suddenly gave a gasp, blinking rapidly. To Calhoun's shock, he seemed
    to sag as if under great strain. He let go of Adolph, backing away and
    sliding to the floor. A hand was clutching at his face as if he were
    in pain. 
    
    "Tom?" Fraser was the first at his side. "What is it?" 
    
    Tom closed his eyes. "Just...just leave it alone...I'm fine..." 
    
    Adolph coughed, looking up. He'd never seen anyone look more broken.
    Shockingly, he was starting to feel bad for his father. 
    
    Only the slightest.  And his father /had/ just hurt him... 
    
    He couldn't waste the opportunity. 
    
    Before the demon could even twitch, he was being slammed bodily into
    the far wall of the pen with so much force the concrete was dented and
    the crushing press and stench of the Sabbat held him pinned.  Calhoun
    had given the Giovanni and Tremere guards a lesson in frenzy they would
    not soon forget and would try to emulate some day. 
    
    "Don't. Even. Think. About. It." 
    
    His eyes glowed with unholy fury and his fangs were mere inches away
    from the demon's exposed throat. 
    
    "Tell me why I shouldn't kill you," hissed the vampire. 
    
    "I'm his son," wheezed Adolph, unfamiliar pain shooting through him.
    
    "And I'm his lover and father of his children.  Not good enough, Adolph.
    Now tell me why I shouldn't kill you." 
    
    Silence.  Suddenly a trembling hand was placed on James' arm.  He turned
    and looked at Tom. 
    
    Lost and lonely.  They were the only words to describe him.  His eyes
    were haunted and afraid.  The eyes of a child that expects to be slapped
    down. 
    
    "Please," he whispered. 
    
    With a snarl, Calhoun dropped Adolph then turned his attentions on the
    psychic.  What he saw frightened him.  He'd seen this man before, buried
    deep in Tom's darker memories.  Needy, a victim, frightened to stand
    up to his aggressor, convinced he was in love when in truth he was trapped.
    He lead Tom out of the pen. 
    
    "Lock the door," ordered Frobisher to the Giovanni guard. 
    
    "Jamey?" asked Fraser quietly. 
    
    "We'll be in upstairs." 
    
    *** 
    
    "Jeez, not the Gremlin again.  Oh, man!" 
    
    "Help me with this, will you?  It weighs a ton!" 
    
    "We shoulda found this guy last." 
    
    "Alex may have killed him by then, Stan." 
    
    "Tom, we're in Hell.  What's the BFD?" 
    
    "It matters." 
    
    "Okay, answer man, then tell my why there's no Fraser here," challenged
    Ray, opening the hatch of the ugly little car.  It was darker lime here.
    Clearly the abomination Ray had encountered had bleached. 
    
    "Hey!" snapped Bob Fraser. 
    
    "My Fraser," corrected Ray. 
    
    "Wyrm know you wouldn't believe any of the ways he'd try to corrupt Fraser.
    Nothing would stick.  Fraser's too dangerous." 
    
    Kowalski snorted.  "Who's next?" 
    
    "Me again." 
    
    "Smart ass." 
    
    Tom chuckled and opened the door.  "Want me to drive?" 
    
    "Huh.  Like I can't drive a..." Ray looked inside the car.  "What the
    hell is this?" 
    
    "Hell. I'll drive.  And just so you know, it's always rush hour." 
    
    Ray sighed with displeasure and they piled in. "Who's next?" 
    
    "Cassie me. Every been to a Demon Hospice?" 
    
    "Uh. No." 
    
    Tom grinned. "Should be a blast." 
    
    *** 
    
    Fraser entered the sitting room. Calhoun was sitting beside Tom on the
    couch, watching the weakened Slayer quietly. "How is he?" 
    
    "How do you think?" Calhoun snapped, instantly regretting it. "Sorry."
    
    Fraser nodded, understanding. He was feeling exactly the same was over
    Ray's disappearance. "If it's any consolation, he does seem to be getting
    better." 
    
    "How can you tell?" 
    
    "Adolph said he was shattered. Pieces of him seem to be coming back."
    
    "How?" 
    
    "I don't know..." 
    
    Tom sighed, almost despondently. "Ray." 
    
    "Ray?" 
    
    *** 
    
    It took them exactly two hours to get to a building that was exactly
    two blocks away.  They wasted the next half hour finding a parking spot.
    Hell was getting old fast.  Finally they found the address Tom had on
    his list.  Ray glanced at it, convinced he was reading Sanskrit when
    in fact it was written in Tom's notoriously bad script. They entered
    the building, Ray automatically holding the door for the two ghosts.
    The door shut, leading the way into the hospice. 
    
    Another Moloch was at a desk in the front, writing on a pad of paper.
    
    "Dad," Tom whispered in Ray's ear, smiling at the image of his father.
    
    Daniel barely looked up from his work. "Upstairs, third door on the right.
    He's been expecting you."  
    Puzzled, they exchanged confused looks, wondering how he could know.
    
    *** 
    
    This Tom was barely 19. He looked so tired, yet incredibly happy. Whiter
    than a sheet and frail as glass, this Tom had obviously had a hard time
    with the pregnancy. A tiny baby, whom Ray could only assume was Cassie,
    lay in his arms. He smiled at them as they entered. "I was wondering
    when you'd get here..." 
    
    Ray blinked, surprised. "You knew we were coming." 
    
    "Kind of..." The boy looked shy. Uncertain. "What are you looking for?"
    He smiled as the older version of himself nodded at a small toy on the
    nightstand. "Take it." 
    
    He remembered Daniel telling him the birth had almost killed Tom. He'd
    been too young to carry a child and had nearly died. "You gonna be ok?"
    
    "Yeah. Just...don't believe everything your lieutenant says. Ok?" 
    
    Tom stared down at the baby affectionately, then looked at his younger
    self. "Enjoy it while it lasts."  
    *** 
    
    From Tom's comments, they pieced together a rough idea of what was happening
    to both Ray and Tom in hell.  It was Fraser who figured out what Adolph's
    comments about a shattered soul meant as he watched the changes come
    over Tom. 
    
    Calhoun stayed glued to his side.  Even when Tom used the bathroom, he
    stood outside the door.  He would not allow too many people into the
    room, nearly taking off Xander and Faith's heads when they tried to see
    Tom.  
    
    He did not press him to talk, just wrapped him in a blanket and got him
    to eat something and made absolutely sure that Tom felt safe and secure.
    From his memories, that was all this abused man wanted.  He didn't seem
    to recognize James, just watched him anxiously as if he was afraid some
    price would be extracted for this kindness. 
    
    Fraser paced in the hall with Turnbull, frustrated by their helplessness.
    "Turnbull, Ray was sent there, there has to be some way to get him back."
    
    "We can go through the Necronomicon." 
    
    Fraser shook his head.  "I thought that was corrupted." 
    
    "It is, but I think Tom was just caught off guard the last time.  Properly
    prepared, I believe he'll have no problem returning Ray to this world."
    
    /Not that it's much of an improvement/, thought Fraser.  "When?" 
    
    "We need him to fully restore Tom's soul.  When he's done." 
    
    "How will we know?" 
    
    Turnbull pursed his lips.  "I'm working on that." 
    
    They looked up at a commotion coming their way.  Marco and Zuko were
    coming down the hall. 
    
    Zuko glanced into the sitting room but must have been glared off by Calhoun.
    He turned to Fraser and the Seeker. 
    
    "We've got a new development.  There's an Anarch in the city." 
    
    "They're a west coast clan," Fraser pointed out.  "How did anyone get
    into the city now?" 
    
    "Prince Kowalski's terrarium is breaking apart.  He must have snuck in.
    He's probably working with Adolph." 
    
    Turnbull looked worried.  "Where is he?" 
    
    "The 13th," said Marco.  "It's not our territory, but I know a Ravnos
    that hunts over that way and he saw an Anarch." 
    
    "That's not all," Zuko continued.  "You were looking for the other two
    McGets?  They found that land yacht Jay drives three blocks from the
    13th.  It was abandoned.  We still can't find any trace of them." 
    
    "You think the Anarch has them?" asked Turnbull. 
    
    "Jay works at night delivering Chinese food for his grandfather's restaurant,"
    Fraser explained.  "His grandfather called the other day.  Jay hasn't
    shown up for days." 
    
    Zuko sighed.  "Marco, get hold of that Ravnos.  I want to know what the
    hell an Anarch is doing in my prince's city." 
    
    *** 
    
    Caine was with them when it happened. 
    
    The frightened, abused Tom abruptly changed into the most serene and
    content man in the world.  All motions became fluid and graceful, even
    when he turned his head to look at Calhoun.  There was wonder in those
    dark eyes, wonder and awe and love. 
    
    Calhoun recognized him instantly. 
    
    This was the boy he had seen in his dream.  The vision he had fallen
    in love with fifteen years ago. He'd never imagined Tom could be like
    that again. He'd never been sure Tom had really been that way. 
    
    Now he knew. 
        
    Tom looked down at Caine, gently cupping the little boy's face in his
    hand, amazed at the sight of his son.  Caine gazed up at him as if he
    could not believe such a contented man had ever dwelt within his father.
    
    He hated whatever monster had torn that part of his father away, turning
    him into the miserable wreck that had been here before. 
        
    Then Tom turned that serene gaze upon Calhoun and the vampire felt himself
    falling in love all over again.  He closed his eyes as he felt delicate
    finger's trace the line of his cheek as Tom studied his face. 
    
    "I've been waiting for you," whispered Tom.  "I love you." 
    
    Calhoun felt his emotion almost overwhelm him and it was with effort
    that he kept his desire to himself as he replied in kind, "And I've been
    looking for you.  I love you." 
    
    And Tom rested his head on Calhoun's lap and let himself drift off to
    sleep. 
    
    *** 
    
    "Okay.  Dead Rat.  Check.  Six-ton door.  Check.  Fuzzy pink animal thingy
    with antennas and magic wand.  Check.  What's next?" 
    
    "Spawn." 
    
    "Like a fish?" 
    
    "No, not like a fish," said Fraser Sr, crowded in with Louis and the
    door. 
    
    "No, not like a fish," said Officer Tom.  "We have to go to Lattimer."
    
    "Oh, good neighborhood." 
    
    "It's gone downhill." 
    
    "That would be tough." 
    
    Tom paused, tapping the steering wheel. "I won't go down with you." 
    
    "Down?" 
    
    "You'll see." 
    
    *** 
    
    He trudged through the sewer, trying not to gag even though he knew he
    couldn't. The place smelled a thousand times worse than it had when he'd
    been here last. Like death warmed over, then cooled, and warmed right
    back up again. 
    
    He could hear the sounds of people talking. A thousand different demon
    languages. Giggling. Then everything went silent as an agony filled scream
    pierced the darkness of the sewer. 
    
    Gardino, the only one of the spirits who had agreed to come down here
    with him, froze just before Ray did. "You don't think he meant literally
    "The Father," do you?" 
    
    Ray gave him an odd look. "Huh?" 
    
    "Nothing..." 
    
    They entered the cavern, and fish mouthed at what they saw. Thousands
    of demons filled the tiny chamber, clamoring to get out through the rear
    door and make their way into the world. When the room was finally empty,
    they saw him. 
    
    Tom the Father lay sprawled on a stone slab, staring blearily at the
    ceiling. "This really sucks, Ray..." His voice was weak. Trembling. He
    looked sick to his stomach. "It really sucks..." 
    
    His face contorted in pain and Ray finally noticed the ooze and the blood
    on the floor and on Tom's clothes. He wrinkled his nose. "I'm sorry...we're
    going as fast as we can..." 
    
    "Great." Tom sat up, holding his stomach. "I suppose you want your talisman."
    
    "That'd be nice, yeah." He didn't like this Tom. He sounded jaded and
    mean and the opposite of everything he'd come to care about. 
    
    Tom shrugged, "Take your pick." He pointed to the jars on the shelves.
    "Tom the Father's demon spawn." 
    
    *** 
    
    Ray thrust the jar full of ooze into Officer Tom's hand. "I hate you,
    I really do..." He wrinkled his nose. "I don't know what it is, but you
    can carry it." 
    
    "Gosh. Thanks." 
    
    ***  
    
    Fraser entered the sitting room with a quiet tread.  Calhoun was asleep,
    Tom's head on his lap.  Adam was lying partially on Tom, likewise asleep.
    They made for a very homey scene. 
    
    He was surprised when Tom stirred and carefully sat up, settling Adam
    to the side as if he was something distasteful. He gave Fraser an unhappy
    frown before turning to look at James.  Something registered in his face.
    Regret? 
    
    Tom?" whispered Fraser. 
    
    "Yeah?" asked a tired, bland voice. 
    
    "How do you feel?  Can I get you anything?" 
    
    "Huh," grunted Tom.  "Could you get me some stability?" 
    
    "Would you believe me if I told you we're all working on it?" 
    
    "Yeah.  Sounds like something you guys would do.  Waste of time, but
    feel free to try." 
    
    "We're very worried, Tom." 
    
    "I gave up worrying a long time ago." 
    
    Fraser frowned a bit, unable to like this facet of Tom's personality.
    "It seems as if you also gave up caring." 
    
    "Maybe I did.  Maybe I let you guys do all the caring for me." 
    
    He shook his head then stiffened.  He seemed to shudder a tiny bit and
    his expression changed.  He looked tired, exhausted. 
    
    And then he saw James. 
    
    "Oh, baby." 
    
    Fraser knew, but wished he didn't. 
    
    *** 
    
    "Who's up next?  Put that grossness in the back!  Canada, where's the
    rat?  We'll put it in the bag.  I don' wanna hafta look at this stuff."
    
    The gaudily marked mayonnaise jar was stowed away. 
    
    "Next up...uh, the me you met working in Chicago. Second time around."
    
    Kowalski fixed his red-tinted glasses, thinking about it.  "Oh, crud.
    What the hell can /he/ possibly give us?" 
    
    "I shudder to think," said Fraser. 
    
    "I shudder to think," said Tom. 
    
    Get your own lines!" snapped the Mountie.  "Stop stealing mine!" 
    
    "Think he'll let you take a shower?" Gardino prayed. 
    
    Ray snorted and repeated the question. 
    
    Tom shook his head. "You wouldn't want to. The water's sludge." 
    
    *** 
    
    This Tom was alone as well, sitting at a bay of phones. He grinned at
    them weakly as he hung up on a caller. His eyes were bright but tinged
    with dark circles. The man was exhausted. 
    
    "What can I help you with, Ray?" He grinned, kicking his feet onto the
    table. He was breathing rather hard. 
    
    "We need...uh..." He looked at Demon Squad Tom. 
    
    "A phone." 
    
    "Yeah." 
    
    Psychic Tom shrugged, gesturing at the table. "Go ahead." 
    
    *** 
    
    Calhoun woke up with a shudder and a gasp, staring up at the psychic
    hovering above him with a grin on his face.  He felt...glowy. Good. Hungry.
    Like he wanted to take Tom and throw him down on the couch and ravish
    that lean frame all over again.  
    "Tom?" 
        
    "Yeah, baby?" 
    
    Baby? 
     
    He gasped as he felt that distinct contact, that point of light in his
    mind.  It grew until it filled him, fulfilled him, taking Tom along on
    a wave of passion the likes of which he had not felt since that night
    they had made love, real love... 
    
    Another gasp.  Tom smiled, glad to have this exquisite man writhe beneath
    him, proud to know he was the one that drove him to such heights.  
    "You were always my favorite, Cal." Tom whispered in James' ear. 
    
    The Sabbat blinked. "Good to know."
       
    *** 
    
    Tom examined the phone, cautiously. "It might work..." He returned to
    the list. "Slayer me's next." 
    
    "What might work?" 
    
    "The phone." Tom looked distractedly up at the sky as a shadow went over
    them. "Oh crap." 
    
    "What?" 
    
    Tom grabbed Ray's arm and ran. The ghostly duo followed closely. "Come
    on!!" 
    
    They ran into an abandoned building. 
    
    And straight into the business end of a mirror smasher. 
    
    "Whoa!" yelped Ray.  What would a mirror smasher do to him as a vampire?
    
    "Freeze!" ordered a strong voice. 
    
    "Froze," Ray declared, hands up in the air in a gesture of peace. 
    
    "You're a vampire!  You're a freakin' blood sucker." 
    
    "Actually, he's a night crawler," corrected Fraser Sr. 
    
    "I wasn't talking to you, Mountie," growled Tom the Slayer. "Fucking
    Mounted Slayer. With your holier than thou, vampire rights crap...."
    
    Ray gaped.  Officer Tom looked confused. 
    
    "You can see him?" exclaimed Ray. 
    
    "I can also shoot them.  And you." 
    
    "Ray?" asked Gardino. 
    
    "Yeah, Lou?" 
    
    "Run." 
    
    Tom the Slayer sneered, "Move and I blow your head off. What d'you want?"
    
    "The gun." Tom the cop stated, standing way too straight for Ray's tastes.
    "We need it to defeat Wyrm." 
    
    "Wyrm. Right." Tom the Slayer considered. "Fine." He handed the gun to
    his counterpart. "I want it back." 
    
    "You bet, Tombo" Ray said sarcastically. 
    
    *** 
     
    Tom was sitting with James and Fraser when the Slayer came back into
    him. He looked up, suddenly lurching over the seat, holding a pair of
    sharp pencils to James' heart. 
    
    He was snarling something. It took two men to get him off of Calhoun
    and another two to keep him restrained. 
    
    No one was quite sure what had set him off, least of all James Calhoun.
    
    *** 
    
    "Next?" 
    
    "Adolph's me." 
    
    "Adolph's you." 
    
    "Ever been to a cornfield?" 
     
    "Do we have them in the city?" 
    
    "This is Hell," reminded Tom.  "We've got everything." 
    
    Ray jumped as the phone they'd taken from Tom the sex kitten rang.  That
    struck Ray as particularly odd, seeing as how it wasn't connected to
    an outlet, but he let it slide. 
    
    "Kowalski." 
    
    "Aren't you supposed to say, 'I know what you want'?" demanded Wyrm.
    
    "You call often, do ya, Lieu?" 
    
    Tom looked at him nervously, clearly uncomfortable. 
    
    "He's still alive, Prince Kowalski." 
    
    "Yeah, well, I'm workin' it." 
    
    "Getting hungry?" 
    
    He was.  Very.  "Nope." 
    
    "All you have to do is drain one of them.  Then the others will never
    find the balance they need.  The Seer will be rendered useless." 
    
    "I'll keep it in mind, Lieu."  He hung up.  "Hey, think I can call Fraser
    on this thing?" 
    
    "Why would you need to call me?  I'm right behind you." 
    
    "Not you, Canada, yer kid Fraser." 
    
    Tom shrugged, maneuvering through the rush-hour traffic.  "Give it a
    whirl.  I don't know if it'll work." 
    
    Ray tried.  No matter what he dialed, the phone kept connecting him to
    a fortune cookie factory in Newark, New Jersey, with an incomprehensible
    message on the answering machine.  Hell indeed. 
    
    *** 
    
    Calhoun shook his head in misery, finally leaving the room.  It took
    a while to piece together that this maniac was the Slayer Born.  He didn't
    see James Calhoun, all he saw was a Sabbat and the desire to destroy
    such a creature overwhelmed Tom.  
    
    After being called every name from every book, Calhoun opted to leave,
    hoping his absence would calm the man.  The three Mounties and Vecchio
    still had their hands full. 
    
    Zuko met Calhoun in the hall. 
    
    "Don't go near Tom.  He's in Slayer mode," warned the Sabbat. 
    
    The Giovanni nodded.  "We think the Anarch may have the McGets.  A few
    younger vampires from other clans have been disappearing." 
    
    Calhoun sighed.  "Damn.  I can't leave him.  Not yet." 
    
    "Any word on Prince Kowalski?" 
    
    "We think he's piecing together Tom's soul in Hell.  I've got no idea
    of how we're going to get him out, though, or how to resolve this mess."
    
    Zuko nodded.  "Lord Caine asked to see you if you're free." 
    
    "Yeah, I'm free. 'Til he flips out on us again."
    
    *** 
    
    Robert Fraser was the first to see him. Adolph's Tom, harnessed to a
    corn-fed crucifix that grew right out of the middle of the street.  The
    crowd of traffic just drove by, ignoring his suffering. Fraser's mouth
    dropped open in horror. "Good God...." 
    
    There were bones sticking out of the man's ankles and palms. Ray wasn't
    sure how good a blessing it was that he was out cold. He wished he could
    throw up. 
    
    Tom the cop, paler than he'd ever seen him, felt for a pulse. Found it
    weak. "You need the bones..." 
    
    Ray closed his eyes, shaking his head. "Pull 'em out." 
    
    Tom tried. "I can't." He didn't want to. Ray sighed, moving into place
    and yanking them out with the inherent strength of the undead. Almost
    immediately he began to feel dizzy. Nauseous. "Oh God..." He dropped
    the bones into the bag.  The body on the cross went limp, hanging from
    the harness. 
    
    Fraser stared at the paler than usual Caanite and frowned. "Yank? You
    all right?" 
    
    "I don't...feel so hot..." 
    
    Tom barely managed to catch him as he fell. 
    
    *** 
    
    Caine dropped the tarot card onto the table in front of him.  Calhoun
    stared down at it, confused. He couldn't figure out what the boy was
    trying to tell him. "I don't understand. " 
    
    "It wasn't there before." 
    
    "What?" 
    
    "It's new. Turnbull doesn't even recognize it." 
    
    Calhoun blinked again, looking down at the card. "Primal?" He raised
    an eyebrow. "It's a business card." 
    
    "For D'Hoffryn." 
    
    "Who?" 
    
    Caine sighed, rubbing his forehead. He was too young for this. And too
    old. "He's the Primal Higher. A demon. The head cheese of the Primals,
    if you like." 
    
    "The Primals." Calhoun sighed. Demons were not his forte. 
    
    "The Hienic, The Enthos, the Serpentine..." 
    
    "Moloch?" 
    
    Caine nodded, smiling.  "And me, after a fashion.  D'Hoffryn is also
    Wyrm's greatest enemy." 
    
    "We need to give him a call." 
    
    "Difficult. We'll have to wait until my father is full restored. In order
    to invoke D'Hoffryn you need a member of every sect in the Primals. A
    Moloch, A Hienic, A Woloch, A Serpentine, and an Enthos. Daniel won't
    make the cut now that he's in a human body." 
    
    "Where are we going to find the rest?" 
    
    "A Woloch is the child of a Moloch and a vampire." 
    
    Calhoun nodded. "Sophia." 
    
    Caine smiled, nodding. "The others shouldn't be too difficult to find.
    Cecil is Enthos. As is Cassandra." 
    
    "But a Serpentine and a Hienic..." He sighed. "I'll tell Zuko." 
    
    *** 
    
    Returning to the car after freeing his own self from the crucifix, Tom
    was not in the least surprised to find a dozen tickets affixed to his
    windshield.  He paged through them.  Illegal parking.  Driving a green
    car.  Owning a Gremlin.  Obstructing traffic.  Ghost-free zone.  Failure
    to stop Ray.  That last called for a court appearance. 
    
    He snorted and tossed them onto the seat, returning for Ray.  He stuffed
    the dazed Caanite into his seat and strapped him in.  Ray woke up in
    the humiliation on wheels mobile, still feeling dizzier than hell. He
    felt beneath his thigh, fishing out the tickets, and stared at a tiny
    business card mixed in with the pile. 
    
    //If you're in need of assistance, contact D'Hoffren on Platform 9, 
    Arashmaharr, 1-800-PRIMAL-INC.// 
    
    He sat up, cradling his skull. "Hey, Tom. Who's next?" 
    
    "Happy me." Tom smiled, looking forward to this one. 
    
    "There's a switch. Where's that phone?" 
    
    *** 
    
    Fraser patted at Tom's face gently. No response. He didn't understand
    it. The man had just gone limp. Had barely responded to anything.  He
    wasn't asleep.  Unconscious was more accurate, but that didn't seem quite
    right, either. 
    
    Tom suddenly roused and he looked so happy that Fraser found himself
    staring at the psychic. His eyes darted around the room, searching. 
    He turned a brilliant, sunny smile on the Mountie.  "Benton, where's
    my family?  Where's Cassie and Adam and James?" 
    
    "Cassie is at the Vecchio's right now.  James is with Adam.  Shall I
    get them and Sophia?" 
    
    "Could you?  Please?" 
    
    He smiled.  "I'll be right back." 
    
    "Could you bring Adolph?" 
    
    Fraser frowned. "I...I'll take you to him." 
    
    *** 
    
    "It's ringing.  Betcha I get Chow Fat's again. Four...five..." 
    
    "Good afternoon!  D'Hoffryn's Primals.  Can I be of assistance?" 
    
    "Uh, hi.  Ray Kowalski here - " 
    
    "Ah!" exclaimed an accented voice.  He sounded genuinely excited and
    totally looped.  "Prince Kowalski!  Just the man!  I was hoping to hear
    from you!" 
    
    "Ya were?" Ray looked at his three companions.  Tom was watching another
    traffic cop -  an imp with red skin and a long tail -  glaring at them
    from across the intersection they'd been sitting at for twenty minutes,
    clearly itching to write them up for having an ugly car. 
    
    "I was indeed!  You've quite set our world on its pointed ear, my good
    lad!  Well done!  What can I do for you?" 
    
    "Uh...well...help?" 
    
    "I've sent my card to your father.  He's really quite fond of you, you
    know." 
    
    Ray smiled.  "Yeah, I know." 
    
    "When he contacts me, we'll get this show on the road.  Done?" 
    
    "Sounds good.  It's just that I'm in Hell." 
    
    "Oh, we all have our failings, nothing to be ashamed about.  See you
    at Warfield's!  Ta!" 
    
    He hung up.  Ray blinked, then looked at Tom.  "Home, Jeeves." 
    
    *** 
    
    Calhoun watched Tom with Adolph, struck by the change in his reactions.
    It was obvious how he loved the demon child, even though the thing had
    tried to kill him. 
    
    Tom kissed the unconscious boy on the forehead, and left the cage. He
    took Sophia from Calhoun, and let the vampire lead him upstairs. "I think
    we should talk, don't you?" 
    
    *** 
     
    Architecture being what it was in this hellish version of Chicago, Ray's
    home address looked like a cross between M. C. Escher and Dr. Seuss with
    enough Warhol to keep the sunny parts blindingly bright.  The apartment
    was a weird combination of Ray's old and new apartments, Tom's little
    dive, and Fraser's cubby/office at the consulate.  
    
    It was spotlessly clean and they were greeted at the door by a Tom Ray
    had only glimpsed in brief flashes over the past few years.  He was happy.
    Pure and simple.  Loved, loving, and cherished by those that mattered
    most to him. 
    
    "I'm so glad you're here!" he exclaimed, beaming at the two men and two
    ghosts at his door.  "I'm really proud of what you're doing, Ray.  It
    means a lot to me." 
    
    "Me too.  What is the tally thing here?" 
    
    "This."  Tom went to the end table and handed over a framed portrait
    of his family.  It was so finely painted it looked like a photograph.
    He smiled, handing it to Ray. 
    
    "We gotta go." 
    
    "I know.  I'll see you soon." 
    
    As they left, Ray glanced at the picture.  It wasn't anything that had
    been made on earth.  It showed a happy family of dark-haired children
    and one demon and a little devil dog. Cassie, Aja, Adolph, Calhoun holding
    Sophia and Tom holding another infant.  The little girl was one he'd
    never seen before in his life and he looked at the officer, pointing.
    "Who is that?" 
        
    "Someone important." 
    
    "Gee. Thanks. That cleared that right up." 
    
    "Hmm. Kinky me next." 
    
    "Oh God." 
    
    "Yeah." 
    
    *** 
     
    James Calhoun could have gone on forever.  Tom was enjoying himself,
    enjoying James' company and holding Sophia.  It was so domestic and warm
    that the vampire would have paid anything for it to continue.  Briefly,
    he wondered at what Kowalski was going through.  He certainly knew what
    this whole affair was doing to Fraser. 
    
    *** 
    
    Fraser sat in the tiny kitchen, staring at the list of silly rules and
    regulations on the refrigerator door. He'd come back to the apartment
    for some of Tom's clothes, some of his own. Ray's, just in case. 
    
    He had not expected to get nostalgic. He buried in face in his arms,
    and stared at the tablecloth for a little while. He was completely unaware
    that Vecchio was watching him. 
    
    *** 
    
    "So...where do you hide when you're feeling like leather?" asked Ray,
    closing his eyes and hoping he wouldn't get much sicker.  Calhoun had
    gotten motion sickness from Filtha bones and it looked as if ray was
    following his lead. 
    
    "Ma Vecchio's," Officer Tom replied easily. 
    
    The detective blinked stupidly.  "I did not just hear that, Grissom."
    
    "I'm afraid so." 
    
    "My son shares a bathroom with this person?" demanded Fraser. Ray cheerfully
    ignored him. 
    
    "To The Vecchio's, then..." 
    
    *** 
    
    Ray Vecchio was booting Tom's ass out on to the lawn when they finally
    arrived at the burning house. Faith stood to the side, giggling like
    a mad woman. Her feet appeared to be rooted into the ground of the property,
    like she was growing out of it or something.  
    
    A neon purple and gray version of Guess was running around the lawn,
    plugged into an extension cord and it was Louis that pointed out the
    front porch of the house was a bowling alley. 
    
    Kinky Tom made a face at Faith and turned to walk away. He grinned when
    he saw the Gremlin pull into the driveway.  It was the oddest grin Ray
    Kowalski had ever seen on Tom's face. A combination of amusement, happiness
    and... 
    
    A sort of flirtiness. What the hell?  
    
    And what was with the purple leather disco suit? 
        
    He tentatively walked towards Kinky Tom, unsure of exactly what he was
    supposed to ask for. This Tom leaned into him, trailing fingers around
    his ear. "Got any Miracle Whip? Or maybe just a miracle whip?  Any Sacred
    Stetsons?  You would be amazed..." 
    
    He barely suppressed a shudder, glad Fraser Sr wasn't hovering. 
    
    "I know what you want," Tom whispered, jumping when the horn of the Gremlin
    honked at them. "Sissy fucking car," he called out to his counterpart.
    
    "Tom, just..." He jumped as a tongue darted out, licking at his cheek.
    "Jesus!" 
    
    Tom grinned at the reaction, flicking his tongue against his teeth before
    finally relenting and shoving something metal into Ray's hands. He gave
    him another shove towards the car. 
    
    "On your way, Detective!" He gave a salute. 
    
    Faith erupted into more giggles as Tom grabbed her around the waist and
    made a face at Gardino. 
    
    Ray was never more glad to run in his life. 
    
    *** 
     
    It was a helmet.  The kind you see in the WWII and Viet Nam movies, usually
    on the likes of Clint Eastwood.  It was army green and covered with netting
    that didn't seem quite Hollywood until Gardino confirmed that the netting
    was fishnet stockings. 
    
    "I don' wanna know," grumbled Ray, tossing it in the back. 
    
    "Probably best." 
    
    "How many more pieces of you are there?" 
    
    "Calhoun's version of me." 
    
    "Mr. Neurotic?" 
    
    "The same." 
    
    *** 
    
    Frank Zuko was in the hall with Warfield when the Sabbat they hated so
    completely came bolting out of the sitting room.  He deposited his infant
    daughter on the floor and held the door closed with both hands.  He was
    positively panicked and the two Giovanni frowned, interested despite
    themselves at what could rouse a Sabbat Elder so completely. 
    
    "Jaaaaaameeeeey!  Oh, Jaaaaameeeey!"  The seductive voice was muffled
    by the door, but undoubtedly it was the Seer.  "Major, open this door
    up, you hot piece of ass, you!  Come on!  Siiiir! I know what you want
    me to do to you and all that leather and I know where I can get my hands
    on a howitzer!" 
    
    Calhoun winced then noticed Zuko and Warfield.  The wince turned into
    a full-fledged grimace of unspeakable agony and Calhoun just banged his
    head on the door as Tom continued his amorous declaration.  The Giovanni
    smirked, hanging around for the show. 
    
    *** 
    
    He supposed that the joke was funny. In Hell. Naming the bar "Hand Basket".
    Ray guessed he would've been rolling over laughing had he not actually
    been there. It was the seediest place in the face of the planet. The
    others, again, would not come in with him. 
    
    Tom was sitting at a booth, looking absolutely depressed.  He knew this
    Tom well. Too well. He'd been crying, very obviously, and a tower of
    whiskey glasses were in front of him. 
    
    A techno version of Beethoven's Fifth played on the Jukebox. 
    
    And a ball of yarn sat on the stool next to Tom. A rather large one,
    about the size of a basketball. 
    
    Tom barely looked up, tossed it at Ray, and went back to drinking and
    crying. 
    
    It was obvious he didn't want anything to do with Ray. 
    
    *** 
    
    The banging on the door stopped, abruptly. Calhoun gave the Giovanni
    a worried look and pushed open the doors. Tom was sitting on the opposite
    side of the room, sobbing hysterically. 
    
    *** 
    
    "How'd it go?" Gardino asked as Ray settled into the car. 
    
    "Don't ask." He glared at Tom. "Next?" 
    
    "Nutty fubar me." 
    
    *** 
    
    Dr. Melfi's office had moved from a medical park to a graveyard on the
    far side of town.  Her office consisted of an crypt with a raised tomb
    in the center and a handwritten sign on the door saying, 'The doctor
    is in. Five cents.'  Ray glanced around nervously.  He despised graveyards
    for good reason and he had the willies already. 
    
    Corpses rested in chairs against the walls, and he could smell the unmistakable
    stench of ozone. He pushed into the room, floored at the sight of Tom
    strapped onto an electroshock table, wrapped in a straightjacket. He
    was giggling like a madman. 
    
    Melfi was sitting at a table in the corner, talking to some guy who looked
    like he was about to fall over dead.  Then he did.  She shrugged, stepping
    away. 
    
    "Some doctor," muttered Officer Tom. 
    
    "Can I help you, gentlemen?" demanded Melfi. 
    
    Ray pointed at the raving lunatic on the table.  "Yeah.  I need ta talk
    to him." 
    
    "I'm afraid that won't be possible.  Tom hasn't spoken in years.  He
    just laughs." 
    
    To prove her right, Tom let out a pained laugh. The shock machine zapped
    him. 
    
    The first Tom shuddered.  Ray glared at Melfi, then pushed past a zombie-looking
    attendant to reach Tom's side. 
    
    "Tom?" he whispered.  "I dunno if you know me.  It's Stan.  We're friends."
    
    Haunted, frightened, and disbelieving eyes turned on him.  Ray felt a
    pang for the crushed spirit he saw there. 
    
    The voice was raspy and hoarse from disuse.  Tom formed the words with
    care, whispering in a barely audible tone. 
    
    "I'm...not...crazy." 
    
    Ray stroked the black hair.  "I know." 
    
    His expression turned from insanity to incredulous.  "You do?" 
    
    "I know you don't belong here," promised Ray. 
    
    Melfi pushed him away.  "Keep away from him!" 
    
    "No," snapped Ray.  He pushed right back.  "You keep away from him! 
    He doesn't belong here!  People like you made him like this!  Nobody
    deserves this!" 
    
    Officer Tom hurried to the table and whispered to Ray, "We need the straight
    jacket!" 
    
    Ray turned and began freeing the last piece of Tom's soul from its ages-old
    prison. The pinned restraints were on pretty tightly, he suspected Tom
    had been there a long time.   Despite Melfi's vigorous protests, he sat
    Tom up and began figuring out the straight jacket. 
    
    "Back off, Doc, or Dead Man might come back fer seconds!" That stopped
    her in her tracks. 
    
    The insane version of Tom stared at Ray and his other self, finally looking
    at Gardino and Fraser. 
    
    "Fraser!  Louis!" he exclaimed as Ray eased the heavy fabric off of him.
    "A Slayer and a Knight!" 
    
    "Now he's hallucinating!" claimed Melfi. 
    
    "No," Ray corrected, "you just ain't seein', Doc."  He looked at the
    newly freed Tom.  "You gonna be okay?" 
    
    He smiled sadly.  "If you get home."  He vanished and Ray, carrying the
    heavy jacket, lead them back to the car.  He leaned against it, hungry
    and feeling like crap. 
    
    Tom the cop tapped him on the shoulder and smiled. "End of the road,
    guy.  Just want to thank you, Stan." He handed Ray his badge and shook
    his hand.  Then he, too, vanished. 
    
    Ray stared down at the badge number and suppressed a smile. 666. Cute.
    He looked up. Nothing was happening. He glanced at the others. 
    
    And the phone rang. 
    
    *** 
    
    Calhoun held the sleeping Tom in his arms. When what he hoped was the
    last piece of Tom's puzzle had shot into him, the seer had blacked out
    completely. He was grateful.  That insane laughter was almost more than
    he could bear.  Turnbull seemed to think his mind had shut down to reintegrate
    the shattered bits, to merge them. 
    
    He hoped so. He hoped Tom would be better for it. 
    
    Though he could do without the kinky part. 
    
    Tom stirred, murmuring something against James' neck. "Not done..." His
    arms went around James' neck as if he were afraid he would fall. 
    
    *** 
    
    Turnbull was having a hard time finding a Hienic demon. They usually
    resided near, if not /in/ the zoos. But for some reason he could not
    find one. He sighed, turning to Aja. If the boy king was right.... 
    
    He sat down, opening Stella Vecchio's demon phone book that Ray had fetched
    for him. Maybe there'd be something there.  
    
    *** 
    
    "Kowalski." 
    
    "I know what you need." 
    
    He tried to infuse false enthusiasm into his voice as he leaned against
    a bright blue grave marker.  "What's up, Lieu?" 
    
    "You didn't kill him." 
    
    "They all got away, boss." 
    
    "One didn't." 
    
    His mind was filled with a vision of Wyrm in his glasses and he wondered
    how he held a phone and where his ears were. 
    
    "Sooo, you're tellin' me there's another piece of Tom Grissom floating
    around Hell?" 
    
    "Not floating, Kowalski.  Let's say...languishing.  Has been for years.
    I'm almost fond of the little brat." 
    
    Brat.  Years.  God, Wyrm had Tom as a kid. 
    
    *** 
    
    "As soon as this is resolved, we're going into the 13th full force,"
    Vecchio told Calhoun as they sat in the darkened room.  "Marco and I
    have it all planned.  I even got the Duck Boys to come." 
    
    "Who else?" asked Calhoun, stroking Tom's hair possessively. 
    
    "Frobisher and Fraser have volunteered, so has Turnbull and Gerard and
    Stephano.  We've got a few Ravnos to help, too.  They're just waiting
    for the word to come down and they've got a couple of crows and a few
    local dogs keeping an eye on the place for us." 
    
    "Jay is my childe," whispered Calhoun.  "I want them back." 
    
    Vecchio smiled, nodding. "We'll get them back. Don't worry." He looked
    at Tom, "How's he doing?" 
    
    "Better." Calhoun sighed. "I think." 
    
    Tom's eyes opened wide. "I have to get downstairs." 
    
    "What?" 
    
    "I have to get him out.  James, get me tapers.  Lots of them." 
    
    *** 
    
    Ray stared at the child in the cage playing with marbles, then back at
    Wyrm in horror. "How long has he been down here?" 
    
    Wyrm smiled, if that's what it could be called, adjusting his tie with
    the tip of his tail. "Ever since the night Cassandra Grissom was conceived."
    
    "Let him go," ordered the vampire prince. 
    
    "Why? Aren't you hungry?" 
    
    Ray shook his head. He was. Too hungry. He was getting faint from lack
    of nourishment and contact - however brief - with the Filtha bones. 
    "I won't eat a child." 
    
    "Pity." 
    
    Ray glared at Wyrm, and made his way towards the cage. Wyrm made no move
    to stop him. The boy stared back at him with wide eyes. "They're going
    to get you out, Ray..."  
    
    "And I'm going to get you out, Tom."  He reached into the cage.  "Tom..."
    
    "Here," said the youth, scooping all the marbles into a dirty cloth bag.
    "It's all I have to give you." 
    
    "It's all I need."  He took the bag and watched with sad eyes as the
    last piece of Tom's shattered soul vanished. 
    
    Wyrm chuckled.  "You blew it, Kowalski.  I would have sent you home.
    All you had to do was chow down on the whore.  This is not going to look
    good on your annual review.  Can't obey orders, not to mention all those
    traffic violations." 
    
    "Don't call him a whore," snapped Ray. 
    
    "And insubordination."  He tsked and shook his scaly head, fixing his
    glasses.  "Not good at all." 
    
    "Why are you so afraid of Tom?  Why are you afraid of Fraser?" 
    
    "Let's talk, Ray.  It's not that I'm afraid of the whore or your soul.
    Truth of the matter is, you should be running for your undead life. 
    You failed me.  You disobeyed me.  All that's left is to hunt you down
    and stake you.  Now you'll finally find out what it feels like, eh, you
    little scum?" 
    
    The door to the holding area slammed open.  The Fifteen rushed into the
    room, screaming for Ray's blood and brandishing stakes and pitchforks.
    With a cry of fear Ray slid the outer bars closed, locking them out,
    then he turned and ran.  The other hall lead deeper into the 13th, but
    he knew he would be able to get out. 
    
    Unless Wyrm had changed the building. 
    
    Unless the entire population of Hell was after him. 
    
    Unless he dropped from exhaustion. 
    
    He plunged into the dark halls, clutching the bag of marbles. 
    
    Wyrm chuckled, watching the Fifteen struggle.  They weren't very coordinated
    or co-operative for police officers.  Oh, well, they were dead, at least.
    
    "Run, run, as fast as you can," he smirked.  He glanced at the clock
    on the wall.  Time to call Lilith.  And Adolph. "You'll be back, Greenie.
    They always come back." 
    
    *** 
    
    Tom slammed the door of the cage shut and locked it from the inside.
    Calhoun and Vecchio stared, shocked as he gradually made his way towards
    Adolph, lighting candles the entire way and setting them in every corner.
    
    Tom's movements were graceful and strange. He was chanting something
    under his breath, spinning on his heel clockwise as he reached each candle.
    "Invok-ai D'Hoffryn. Give balance, give anchor. Invok-ai D'Hoffryn, give
    me what I need, Invok-ai D'Hoffryn, use this demon seed." 
    
    One last spin. He grasped Adolph's hand in his, scratching both palms
    deep with his claws. Calhoun could smell the blood. He took a step forward,
    feeling Vecchio pull him back. 
    
    Tom let the blood drip over the last candle, and blew it out.  There
    was a pause.  Part of the wall and floor started to distort. 
    
    And then a hellmouth opened.  
    
    A rushing wind sucked into the rip in time and space, a roar like a hurricane.
    
    At the exact same moment, Fraser and Turnbull finally entered the basement.
    They stared in shock at the suddenly very warped cage. Tom seemed strained
    to hold the hellmouth open. Why wasn't Ray coming out? 
    
    *** 
    
    He could see the portal at the end of the hall, but was unable to get
    any closer to it. The harder he ran, the farther away it got. And the
    closer the Fifteen got to him. He was panting with the exertion.  The
    hall was endless, stretching into eternity.  Forever away.  Like in cartoons,
    where the characters run and run and run past the same background and
    finally slam into the wall or out the door. 
    
    *** 
    
    Tom's brow furrowed and he chanted louder. Suddenly his other hand, the
    one not clutching Adolph's, went out to Fraser. 
    
    The warping made it easy to get into the cell. Fraser stepped between
    the rippling bars and took Tom's other hand, felt the claws dig in and
    barely winced. He took up Tom's chant, praying this would help. Praying
    Ray would be able to get out.  
    
    A scream of fury as Adolph suddenly woke up and found himself being so
    used.  Turnbull gave a shout that was drowned out by a hissed curse from
    the demon. 
    
    "In nomine Vermis!" 
    
    "Tom!" screamed the Seeker above the wind.  "Sir!" 
    
    Adolph took to the air, struggling to free himself of Tom's grip.  The
    Slayer held on with a tenacity that surprised even his demonic son, his
    voice never faltering.  Suddenly realizing he would not escape his father's
    grip, Adolph plunged into the Hellmouth, dragging Tom along. 
    
    Fraser braced himself, keeping up the chant Tom had started.  He could
    hear Turnbull behind him.  His booted feet were on the brink of unreality.
    The fiery power of the Hellmouth reached towards a speck of darkness.
    
    Towards Hell. 
    
    Suddenly Adolph lashed out with his tail, twisting against Tom's hand
    in the same motion.  The Moloch claws scraped a long line of four parallel
    cuts down the tiny demon's arm before he was free, and he streaked towards
    the darkness below. 
    
    *** 
    
    The last source of aid he expected was Adolph. 
    
    The Fifteen were almost upon him.  He could feel hands reaching for his
    clothes, plucking at him, wanting to devour him in the name of Wyrm.
    
    And then demon-lad came streaking down the pike and literally bowled
    over fifteen snotty psychic cops that were pissed off that Ray wasn't
    nearly as dead as they were.  Curses erupted.  He thought he heard singing.
    
    ...sing like a bird... 
    
    ...fraser?
    
    Ray ducked, then lunged. 
    
    Claws sank into his arm.  He was yanked hard enough to pull his arm out
    of its sockets.  A roaring filled his ears and he felt a burning heat
    he would some day rival. 
    
    *** 
        
    Fraser felt a sudden tug, as if Tom had seized something heavy.  Bracing
    his feet, he pulled with all his strength.  He couldn't chant at the
    same time and neither could Tom and the Hellmouth was closing.  Abruptly
    he staggered back and fell to the floor. The boiling heat was replaced
    by a cold wind and everything was plunged into darkness.  He heard murmuring,
    followed by a shout of pain. Tom's hand was gone, snatched away. 
    
    "Get the lights! Hurry! 
    
    *** 
     
    He couldn't think, he couldn't. He was so hungry. Feeding was his only
    essence of being now, and so he fed. Fed on the first thing he saw when
    he exited the Hellmouth. He could feel clawed hands shoving at him, panting
    breath under him. 
    
    Someone had told him to hurt this man.  He was dangerous. Or something.
    But he'd wanted to help him. Oh God. He was so hungry. 
    
    He couldn't think. 
    
    But he could obey. And he could feed. 
    
    God he was starving. 
    
    *** 
     
    "Ow!  Damnit, Stan, cut that out!" 
    
    "Ray?  Ray!  Ray!" 
    
    "Stephano, could you turn on the lights?" 
    
    "Stan!  Stop!  We'll get you something to-OW!" 
    
    "Happy now Wyrm, you fuckin' poor excuse fer a lieutenant?  I bit one
    of 'em!  Now leave me the hell alone!" 
    
    "...Ray...?" 
    
    "Frase?  That you?  You're not here!" 
    
    "Yes, I am, Ray, and so are you." 
    
    "Frase?  That really you?  Oh, god..." 
    
    "You can let go, Stan." 
    
    "Tom?  Grissom!  You okay?" 
    
    "Yeah.  Yeah, I am, thanks to you." 
    
    "Uh...here's yer marbles." 
    
    "Thanks.  I lost them a long time ago, an-Ah! Ooof!  Hey!  Lemme get
    out of the way before you tackle him, will ya?" 
    
    


End file.
